A Journey of Hobbits: All That Glistens
by The.Teal.Rose
Summary: Upon returning to the Shire, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin lead a rebellion to reclaim their homeland from Saruman. However, swiftly after, they and five of their kin are taken by the Easterlings to the realm of Rhun, an uncharted desert land with magnificent palaces of gold. A quest of self-discovery and survival ensues as they struggle to escape and return to the Shire together.
1. Around the Kitchen Table

**A/N**: This story is primarily Movieverse, with the addition of 'The Scouring of the Shire' and some of the other hobbit characters mentioned in the books. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin have returned to their beloved home to find that it has entirely changed in their absence. Ruffians rule it and a mysterious individual named 'Sharkey' has taken control. Farmer Cotton meets up with them and offers that they all stay with him while they figure out a way to deal with the situation.

**Rating**: T for violence and adult themes.

**Pairings**: Sam/Rosie, Frodo/Rosie, Meriadoc/Estella, Peregrin/Diamond

**Disclaimer**: I do not own this brilliant universe or its characters. They all belong entirely to J.R.R. Tolkien and the interpretative genius of Peter Jackson. In the first few, preliminary chapters, I use some direct quotes from the book.

**Chapter I Notes**: *****The Cotton family: Tolman (Farmer Cotton, Tom), Lily Cotton (wife), Young Tom, Rose, Jolly, Nick, and Nibs.

* * *

><p><em>A Journey of Hobbits<em>_**: **_**[All That Glistens]**

**.+.**

Chapter I

Around the Kitchen Table

"_I for one would rather suffer now  
>Than leave this life without passion<br>This is our chance  
>Our time to stand"<em>

_-As I Lay Dying_

**.+.**

Frodo and Merry sat together at the table in the Cottons' small kitchen, the events of the evening still weighing heavily on their minds. Farmer Cotton and his wife had briefly excused themselves to prepare hot beverages and scrape together a decent supper. Their children occupied the seats on the opposite end of the two travel-weary hobbits.

"They all said you'd been offed," Nibs said, wide-eyed and mouth even so slightly agape.

Merry furrowed his brows and frowned a bit, "well, that's what comes of listening to the likes of rumors. As you can see, Frodo and I are very much alive, so you can all stop starting at us as if we were ghosts."

"Oh," Nibs nodded, trying to compose his face. "Right."

"I don't know what foolishness any of you have been up to," Rosie spoke up then, as all but one of her brothers seemed to have gone speechless. "When Sam came riding through here earlier, he only said he'd been off with you, Mr. Frodo," her eyes shifted to him, stern and purposeful. "And all I have to say about that is you'd better have a good reason for disappearing the way you all did."

"Good reason?" Merry replied, tone indignant. "Why, if y-"

"It's alright," Frodo spoke up then, having merely regarded the Cotton daughter in silence. His glance briefly shifted to Merry before it returned to Rosie, a reassuring smile crossing his face. "All will be explained in time. At the moment, unfortunately, we have other things to concern ourselves with."

Rosie seemed sated by that, though a trace of discontent was evident to Frodo. He found he entirely understood the call for its presence, as he'd deprived her of her dear Sam for an entire thirteen months without word of his whereabouts or assurance of his return.

"The least you could tell us is the location you all been residin' in," Mrs. Cotton pressed as she returned to the table, loaf of bread in one hand and a sampling of ham in the other.

"It was no single location," Merry corrected, "and different for each me and Frodo. I was in Rohan most of the time, while he trekked to the very edge of our map. Mordor, to be exact. He and Sam both."

Frodo noted the confusion that followed this answer, and considered it was also well placed. It was a thing unheard of among Hobbits (with the exception of Bilbo, at least). He supposed they probably expected this of _him_, an adventurous streak running in the family or something of the like. However, for the others, and especially for Sam, it was nearly uncharacteristic.

"Rohan and Mordor?" Tolman Cotton questioned finally. "Such foreign places I've scarcely heard of! what business had you there?"

"A quest of vital importance," Frodo started to answer, yet he hardly knew how to properly explain. "Involving a ring of power, and the need to travel to the only place it could be destroyed. It had been kept here, in the Shire, for over 50 years, in possession of my Uncle. Gandalf learned of its nature and assigned us with its transportation from here, to Bree, and then on into Rivendell."

He paused then, as Tolman's eyes lifted to the window, scrutinizing and belaying that his mind was, indeed, beginning to return to their current situation. When his attention shifted back to Frodo, he only nodded and smiled politely. "Well, I'm glad to see you've all returned safely."

"I certainly hope you didn't face too much trouble," his wife added, her expression also notably distracted.

An indignant huff escaped Merry but, as he caught Frodo's eyes, he composed himself. "None that couldn't be handled, no."

A silent nod was all she offered at that and, after a moment, Frodo felt it was time to turn the direction of their conversation to what was undeniably more pressing. "Tell me how all this began, Tom."

This was the only prompt Cotton needed before he began to explain. He told them of Pimple and his trading of supplies, of the arrival of the ruffians, the tearing down and rebuilding of new structures, the scavenging and lock ups. Things had only gotten worse from there, as Pimple declared himself 'Chief'. Rules were declared and belongings and food were stolen. Sharkey had come then and ruination had set in.

"Who is this Sharkey?" Merry asked. "I heard one of the ruffians speak of him."

Cotton was quick to answer this too, revealing that Sharkey was the big man whom had taken residence at Bag End. No one had seen him, but all the ruffians were at his bidding. His orders included hacking, burning, ruin and now even killing. He had begun turning the Shire into a place of industry, where peace could not be found, even in the night.

"That's right!" added Young Tom after his father."'Why, they even took Pimple's old ma, that Lobelia, and he was fond of her, if no one else was. Some of the Hobbiton folk, they saw it."

Frodo's eyes lowered briefly, as he was reminded of what he had seen in Galadriel's mirror, all that time ago. It seemed the Shire's future had indeed been heading in that foretold and foreboding direction. A wasteland; a place of bondage and misery.

A sad sort of smile crossed his face as he listened to Tom junior's telling of Lobelia's stand against the ruffians, and at how she had shown more spirit than most anyone else. The woman had always possessed such a fierce temper, and he sincerely hoped that they might find her yet alive when the ordeal was over.

However, his attention was instantly roused and directed to the front door as Sam burst through, followed by his gaffer. Frodo was pleased to discover that the old man hadn't much changed since he'd last seen him.

"Good evening. Mr. Baggins!" the gaffer said as he set his own eyes on him. "Glad indeed I am to see you safe back." He approached the table with his son behind him, claiming the attention of every occupant in the room. "But I've a bone to pick with you, in a manner o' speaking, if I may make so bold. While you're been trespassing in foreign parts, chasing Black Men up mountains from what my Sam says, though what for he don't make clear, they've been and dug up Bagshot Row and ruined my taters!"

"I am very sorry, Mr. Gamgee," responded Frodo, sincerity evident in his voice. "But now I've come back, I'll do my best to make amends."

"Well, you can't say fairer than that," the gaffer returned. "Mr. Frodo Baggins is a real gentlehobbit, I always have said, whatever you may think of some others of the name, begging your pardon."

Frodo merely nodded, knowing the man was referring to his uncle. Others had deemed him cracked, even somewhat ostracizing him from their simple society. Hobbits were typically tentative creatures, and responded to the unknown as would a fearful child, with avoidance and, on occasion, resentment.

"And I hope my Sam's behaved hisself and given satisfaction?" The man then asked.

"Perfect satisfaction, Mr. Gamgee," Frodo assured him. His mind returned then to that look of discontent on Rosie's face, as he all at once knew a way in which he might somewhat appease her. With a slight, genuine smile, and without averting his gaze from the gaffer, he continued. "Indeed, if you will believe it, he's now one of the most famous people in all the lands, and they are making songs about his deeds from here to the Sea and beyond the Great River."

When he looked to Sam then, he noted the blush, but also a fair bit of gratitude contained in his gaze. Rosie had offered him an impressed, wide smile and, as Frodo also glanced to her, he noted how prominently her eyes shone as she beheld Sam.

Her family too, it seemed, all looked to his friend with similar, admiring expressions. They were proud of him. From beside Frodo, Merry also afforded Sam a firm nod. The former gardener deserved their respect, as his valiant efforts had rightfully earned him all manner of praise.

"It takes a lot o' believing," said the gaffer, ever practical in his opinion. "Though I can see he's been mixing in strange company." His eyes looked to the foreign and exquisite garb his son wore.

"'Strange indeed," Frodo offered, containing another smile at that. It was, after all, a severe understatement.

It was after an ensuing pause though, that Farmer Cotton redirected the focus of the conversation. "Enough on all that now, we'd best be preparing for a full day come tomorrow." He looked to his children, "better be oft to bed with us then. There'll be plenty of time to hear more of Sam's wandering's when this is all said and done." He looked to the trio and gaffer before motioning a hand to a set of spare rooms, "you all can bunker here as long as you need."

"Make yerselves at home," Lily added as she rose beside her husband.

"Thanks for the offer," Merry replied as he stood, stretching his arms. "But I'm going to keep watch on the main road. I'll return in the morning."

"Do you need any help?" Sam asked.

Frodo silently looked to his cousin, willing to assist as well.

"No, you two rest," Merry insisted as he stepped towards the door. "Keep up defenses here."

"Very well," Frodo relented. "Be careful."

The Brandybuck nodded before heading out into the night and securing the door behind him.

"Nibs," Farmer Cotton began saying then to his youngest, "you'll be stayin' to look after your ma and sister tomorrow, understood?"

The boy seemed a little disappointed with the request, yet wordlessly nodded all the same. He received some sympathetic glances from each Nick, Jolly and Young Tom, before they all made their way from the kitchen with only parting waves in the direction of Frodo, Sam and the gaffer.

"Be sure and let me know if you need anythin'," Lily stated to the trio before turning and following after Tolman, who directed Rosie to head to bed also.

At her father's request, the hobbit lass stood, smoothed her skirt, and offered a set of polite smiles to the three who returned her gesture with smiles of their own. Her eyes lingered briefly on Sam before she also took her leave.

The cackle of the hearth was heard in the silence the three were greeted with. Frodo looked to Sam and noted that his eyes had fixed on where Rosie had sat. He lifted a hand to his shoulder, expression earnest. "Go on and get some rest, Sam."

His gardener's attention shifted immediately at that, "you'll be coming to rest right along with me, Mr. Frodo, if I have anything to say about it."

Frodo smiled before assuring him with a nod, "your insistence is rarely wasted."

The gaffer looked between them, discerning how close they'd grown, before announcing that he was going to turn in also, lest he collapse from fatigue right there at their feet.

"Sleep well, Mr. Gamgee," Frodo turned his smile on him.

The man nodded and made his way down the narrow hall, entirely familiar with the residence, as his and Tolman Cotton's families had been close since Sam was only a small lad.

"Come along then," Sam ushered Frodo forward and left him beside the adjoining room to his own. He waited until his benefactor had entered and closed the door behind him before feeling satisfied enough to take to his own room and lie down in the modest sized bed. He kept his ears open though, lest Mr. Frodo take it upon himself to try and exit into the hall.

It worried him how little sleep his friend often acquired, even after the whole matter of the ring had been effectively settled. He supposed, though, it was bound take some time and adjusting until things fully returned to normal.

…

True to his suspicions, Frodo simply sat at the edge of the bed after having removed his overcloak and scabbard, eyes wide and awake as they listlessly stared beyond the pane of glass and into the fog-ridden night. He felt anxious over both Merry and Pippin (one maintaining vigilance and the other riding the length of road to gather his kinsmen).

He already knew that sleep would evade him, as his mind was far too alert and ridden with thought. Tomorrow would determine the fate of their beloved homeland; he only hoped all would go well, and that no killing would need dealing. Not everyone supported his pacifistic views, not least of all Merry, but he trusted that his cousin would nonetheless enforce his wishes.

It was quite an ordeal to return to, and Frodo even felt a bit of guilt as he considered how long he and his companions had remained in Gondor, in peace and rest, while their kin suffered. _'No good can come of lingering on that though,' _he reasoned with himself. _'There wasn't any way of knowing.'_

He considered the Cotton family then, how sturdy and resilient they were, as well as the account of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Hobbits were entirely simple people, passive and unconcerned, yet, when threatened and their lifestyle robbed from them, they could be the most forceful and determined of all. They were all so adamant, fervently and resolutely following the spark he and his companions had ignited. It was truly remarkable.

Frodo remained in the depth of related contemplations until the makings of dawn lightened the sky. He rested his head only a moment, closing his eyes and claiming not but the most fragile and lucid fragments of slumber, until a knock sounded at his door, completely rousing him.

He emerged from the room and greeted Sam with a weary smile, ignoring the slight condescension he recognized on the face of his gardener, prompted at the obvious traces of his tiredness.

They entered the kitchen together and saw that the family had already woken and were sitting with mugs of tea and coffee, along with sparse servings of eggs and toast before them. All but Tolman himself, as Lily stated he had gone up the road to acquire an update from some of the watchers.

The gaffer greeted his son and moved aside to offer him a place to sit. Sam lowered himself into the chair, across from Rosie, who looked up and caught his gaze briefly before he shyly withdrew his attention.

Frodo took the seat beside him, and gratefully accepted Lily's offer of coffee. He sipped at the brew, feeling its rejuvenating effect almost immediately. With one glance to the window, he surmised that the hour had not yet reached the seventh, the world still early. It seemed no one had slept too well, all equally eager and anxious to wake at first light.

"Do you think there'll be many casualties, Mr. Frodo?" Mrs. Lily Cotton asked, a worried crease forming between her brows.

Frodo looked up at the woman, belaying his empathy through the soft set of his gaze before answering truthfully. "I intend to do all I can to ensure there won't be any."

She nodded slowly, face a bit ashen in dread as her eyes traveled to each of her sons in turn.

"If any of 'em _does_ go here in Hobbiton," the gaffer began, shoving a forkful of egg into his mouth. "Least you can be certain it was on account of pursuin' a good cause."

Frodo and Sam both looked to the man at his words, knowing Lily would take little comfort at hearing them. It was Rosie, though, who spoke up.

"We just have to be hoping for the best," the lass looked to her mother, one arm wrapping about her shoulders. "Papa and the boys need us to at least be doing that."

"Rosie's right," Young Tom assured her. "We need you to be smilin' for us."

Frodo looked between the two, eyes softening further as Mrs. Cotton's two eldest offered their encouragement and comfort. Lily inhaled deeply before grasping Tom's hand and leaning her head against Rosie's. Frodo then glanced knowingly at Sam, who was also gazing at the scene, a fondness expressed by the tender smile crossing his face.

The door opened, interrupting the moment, as Farmer Cotton himself entered, face firm and flushed.

"Pa!" Nick exclaimed, "Any news?"

The man nodded, "seems as if none o' the ruffians were left up at Bag End." He stepped forward and planted a kiss against his wife's cheek before reaching for a slice of toast. "But the gang from Waymeet will be along any time now."

"I'm ready to get started," Jolly added, fist forming, as Nibs only pouted from beside him.

"All in good time, lad," Tolman replied, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"They'll get what's comin' to them soon enough," Sam added.

"Ain't that right?" Young Tom answered with an approving smirk.

"Just remember what I said yesterday," Frodo looked between them all. "No killing, if it can be at all avoided. Especially of any hobbit folk."

"Right, right," Farmer Cotton relented with a nod. "We'll be tryin' our best."

Young Tom and Jolly didn't seem too pleased, but offered their reluctant agreement all the same.

After breakfast, a messenger arrived and pounded on the door, saying he had just arrived from Tookland. Frodo and Sam both listened eagerly for any news of Pippin.

"The Thain has raised all our country," he said, "and the news is going like fire all ways. The ruffians that were watching our land have fled off south, those that escaped alive. The Thain has gone after them, to hold off the big gang down that way; but he's sent Mr. Peregrin back with all the other folk he can spare."

The gaffer shook his head, "you can always count on 'em Tooks to get riled up and rally on a moment's notice."

Sam grinned, "Seems things are finally gettin' underway."

"Thank you," Frodo offered his gratitude to the messenger, who then turned and ran to inform the next household.

They all waited for Merry's return then, as the morning hours wore on. Frodo sent frequent glances, with carefully disguised anxiety, towards the window as he looked for any sign of his kin. Sam exchanged light conversation with Young Tom, Jolly and his gaffer, distracting himself as best he could within their company.

It wasn't until about ten o'clock that they finally saw him, riding up the path, expression stilled and implying that the news he was bringing was less favorable than that of the previous messenger. Farmer Cotton instantly welcomed him into the house, and the Brandybuck approached Frodo and Sam, eyes worn and his demeanor exhausted, as he had been out riding all night.

"There's a big band about four miles away," he declared. "They're coming along the road from Waymeet, but a good many stray ruffians have joined up with them. There must be close on a hundred of them; and they're fire-raising as they come." He shook his head, "Curse them!"

"Ah!" Farmer Cotton exclaimed immediately. "This lot won't stay to talk, they'll kill, if they can. If Tooks don't come sooner, we'd best get behind cover and shoot without arguing." His eyes shifted to Frodo then, "There's got to be some fighting before this is settled, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo's eyes lowered at that, having already suspected the necessity, yet continuing to vainly hope for a more favorable means of handling the situation. A bit reluctantly, he nodded his assent. He fully intended to do all he could, though, to limit the casualties. From both sides.

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, silently offering his support while, in the corner of the young Baggins' eye, he saw Jolly and Young Tom look to one another with satisfied grins.

"No need to worry on the Tooks," Merry said to Tolman then. "Pip's well on his way with a hundred strong. Should be here any moment."

"Come on then, lads," Farmer Cotton addressed his sons. "Let's be ready to set out as soon as he comes."

Jolly and Young Tom rose swiftly, moving with their father and Nick, who was a little less boisterous about the matter, to where they'd stored some hand crafted weapons. Nibs looked on with envy, his disappointment surmounting as the time drew near for them to set out.

"You'll be comin', gaffer?" Sam asked his father.

The old man nodded, "can't keep lettin' you outdo me as you have of late." He stood and adjusted his belt before declaring that he would step outside to keep watch for the Tooks.

Lily Cotton inhaled deeply and moved to clear the table, busying her hands along with her focus on the task of chores. Rosie looked to her mother before her attention shifted, instead turning on Frodo. She regarded him wordlessly, watching as he conversed with Sam and his gaffer, while returning his foreign-looking scabbard to his waist. It wasn't until he looked up and noticed her scrutiny that she stood and approached him, expression serious. He seemed to be taking lead on all this, with the others reporting to him and seeking his direction.

"Now listen here, Mr. Frodo," she began. "I know you meant what you were saying, about looking out for our losses, but I want your word that you'll be looking out for the lads. My mother couldn't handle losing a one of them, and neither could I. So, even if that means you'll have to be drawing that sword of yours, against that set mind of yours not to be killing, you'll protect them, won't you?"

Frodo took a moment to silently observe the lass as she looked to him with a hand on her hip and an earnest gleam in her eyes. Her words were as stern and commanding as they were gentle and beseeching.

"You can trust Mr. Frodo," Sam put in then. "He'll stand by his word."

"And you do have my word," Frodo responded after him. "I will prioritize the safekeeping of all those fighting on our side before the sparing of any ruffian or opposing kinsman." He offered her as much a smile as he could summon. "Try not to trouble yourself too gravely, Rose. Sam and I will look after them."

Even despite her earlier assurance to her mother, it was apparent to Frodo then that Rose Cotton was as equally worried over this fight, though determined to remain strong and resolved to disguise that fact.

The hobbit lass searched his gaze, somewhat marveling at how solidified his resolution was, as if were almost fundamental to him. It made her feel at once small, so far beneath him in her doubt. His gaze itself too, where she had once detected a glint of the mischievous, had been replaced with only a prominent solemnity.

The moment passed though, and her observation became trivial. She nodded, "I appreciate it."

Frodo returned her nod before turning and making his way to where Merry stood by the door, leaving Sam with Rosie.

"Nibs'll look after you and your mother," Sam said to the Cotton daughter, hardly even knowing what else to break the silence with.

"Your sentiment's kind as ever," Rosie smiled prettily at him. "But we can hold our own well enough."

He returned her smile shyly at that, the fiery lass leaving no room for argument.

"When this is all said and done," she began telling him then, narrowing her eyes just slightly. "I'm expecting a more detailed accounting of just where you've been and what you've been doing all this time."

Off with a Baggins on one of their cracked excursions didn't bode too well all on its own. However, she knew Sam to be a more practical sort of person, and determined not to make any prior judgment. His loyal service to Mr. Frodo was exceptional, but she hoped he hadn't been compelled on that disposition alone to disappear from the world the way he had. A ring of power had been mentioned, and her father had said early that morning that it all sounded a little like fantastical nonsense, same as with Mr. Bilbo and his dragon. It was admittedly fascinating nonsense if she was being completely honest with herself though.

Sam nodded, "I'll be tellin' you everything you want to know."

The smile returned to Rosie's face, as she found herself looking forward to the tales he would reveal. If he'd really received the recognition Mr. Frodo had said, then his deeds had been truly great.

"We'll march on them full force," Merry was saying to Frodo at the door. "Take care of it as swiftly as we can in the centre at Bywater."

"They're all ready and eager," Frodo said with a nod. "Our unity will be our greatest asset."

They both looked then to the group rising up over the hill and approaching the house, a familiar face heading them.

"Pip," Merry muttered before exchanging a smile with Frodo and then calling back over his shoulder. "Tooks are here! Time to move out!"

Farmer Cotton and his sons were out the door without a second prompting, greeting the new arrivals gratefully. Sam followed after them, with a final, brief glance in Rosie's direction.

Pippin made his way up the steps and to where Merry and Frodo stood, his eyes bright and excited. "Everybody ready?"

Frodo found Pippin's cheerful disposition to be rather infectious, and he began to feel a certain positivity towards the coming endeavor. They would be victorious. They were all fighting for something worthwhile. Recalling his earlier promise to Rose Cotton, he determined that his primary role would be one focused on minimalizing casualties, to the best of his ability.

"As ready as we'll ever be," Merry answered his friend.

Lily approached her daughter and Nibs, as they all three stood and stared as the others exited the house and closed the door behind them. For now, all they could do was wait. Wait and hope for the best.


	2. Saruman Revealed

**Chapter II Note: ***True to the book, in this chapter, neither Saruman or Grima were killed at Isengard.

* * *

><p><em>A Journey of Hobbits<em>_**: **_**[All That Glistens]**

**.+.**

Chapter II

Saruman Revealed

"_There is something  
>in your eyes<br>flowing them over  
>stealing all the harmony"<em>

_-Lacuna Coil_

**.+.**

It was after the battle that the hobbits stood in a brief silence, partly astonished that the worst was over, and partly from a temporary paralysis induced from heightened nerves. The adrenaline had run strong in them all, driving them ever onward and with increasing ferocity.

It all began with rousing and inspiring speeches from each Merry and Pippin, which were met with a chorus of cheers, the rising sound of it lifting the hobbit's morale and unnerving their foes, Sam's shout being the loudest of them all.

Merry and Pippin bravely led their forces on the frontlines, serving as beacons and aiding the others in their perseverance. The former, the appointed tactician, easily and quickly laid his plan, as, among the ruffians, there seemed to be no designated leader who understood warfare. They were ruthless and grim, but so obviously had no strategy to speak of, only remained close together in a tight-knit group.

"It bodes well for us," Merry had stated to Frodo.

He designed a way to surround them, his tactic flawlessly executed, for the ruffians came together along the road only to be met with a barrier of upturned farm carts. Hobbits had lined the hedges on either side, just above their heads, and, from behind, other hobbits pushed their hidden wagons across the path, blocking the way back.

Among those atop the hedge, Merry stood, before calling out to their enemy below. "Well, you have walked into a trap. Lay down your weapons! Then go back twenty paces and sit down. Any who try to break out will be shot."

Those who obeyed were swiftly cut down by their fellows, much to Frodo's dismay, which only increased when two hobbits were slain where the wagons stood, in an attempt by the ruffians to backtrack.

"They won't get far," Pippin declared. "All that country is alive with our hunters now."

At the climax, the ruffians became angry as more and more of them were shot down. Most became less determined to escape and more bent on killing, many hobbits falling to their ferocity. Frodo, who had not drawn his sword once during the battle, stood among them, and his role became that of preventing hobbits, those intending to avenge their fallen comrades, from wrathfully slaying the foes whom had thrown down their weapons. He counseled them on their losses, soothing their anger and thereby preventing an increase of killings.

When most of the hobbits began to waver, hurt over those whom had fallen, Merry and Pippin came across the field and fearlessly charged at the ruffians, the former slaying the leader himself, before pulling his forces back and encircling what remained of their foes in a wide range of archers.

That was how it ended, with around seventy of the ruffians strewn as corpses on the field, and a surrendered dozen taken as prisoners. Nineteen hobbits were killed, and some thirty were wounded.

And now they all stood in silence, breathing heavily, and shaking quite notably. The sounds of screams and shouts had died, and the dust was already beginning to settle. Frodo glanced across the field and noted in relief that Farmer Cotton continued to stand with his three oldest sons, the worst of their maladies being a cut to Jolly's shoulder.

He also spotted Sam, who stood supporting his gaffer, the poor man looking as if he were about to collapse in exhaustion. Frodo's eyes turned sorrowful, however, as he looked next to those whom had fallen, held in the arms of the ones they'd left behind. He could identify only a few, the others not seen but in brief, passing acquaintance, though his heart went out to them all equally.

When Merry and Pippin ascended one of the inclines, the silence was broken when one of the archers lifted his voice to acclaim them, "hail to Captains Meriadoc and Peregrin!"

His proclamation effectively lifted the spirit of the atmosphere, as others joined him in his exuberant praise. They had taken their home back, and, even despite their losses, the cause had been true and brought those who were grieving a prominent source of comfort. No one had died in vain.

Then things started moving once more, as some took the time to rest, and others aided in the recovery process. Sam directed a few wagons to be brought over and loaded with the bodies of the ruffians, who would then be brought and buried in the old, nearby sand-pit. He declared that the hobbits would be laid together in a hill-side grave, which he later intended to adorn with a great stone and surrounding garden to commemorate them.

…

Later that afternoon, once the labors were distributed, Frodo sighed and approached Farmer Cotton with Sam, Merry and Pippin. "Well, I suppose it is time now that we dealt with the 'Chief'."

"Yes indeed; the sooner the better," said Merry with a frown. "And don't be too gentle! He's responsible for bringing in these ruffians, and for all the evil they have done."

Frodo offered no reply to his statement, as he didn't even know himself how he would deal with the ruffian leader.

"Right," Tolman nodded. "I'll round up some of the most rested and follow along with you all, for it's only a guess that there is no ruffians left at Bag End. We don't know for sure."

"Thank you," Frodo responded appreciatively.

The man at once acted upon his word, gathering an escort of two dozen sturdy-looking hobbits. Frodo waited patiently, hand upon the hilt of sting and mind concerning itself with the matter to come. The wind swept at his hair, revealing the anxious set of his brow, which was not missed by Sam.

"Mr. Frodo," he began, "no need to fret 'til you need to. For now, we just need to be focusin' on reaching the place."

Frodo glanced to him, attempted a smile, and finally nodded. His worries didn't cease, but he sought to hide their presence more effectively, at least so as not to concern Sam.

When Farmer Cotton returned, they all set off on foot, with Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin leading the way. However, as they ventured further, and the real damage that had been dealt was revealed to them, their expressions turned somewhat sorrowful. Their beloved Shire was hardly recognizable.

Frodo observed his homeland, Mordor having effectively reached it, and felt it was the worst of all the sights he had seen. This place, which had always remained so untouched by evil, had now been tarnished so cruelly.

They progressed towards the old village across the water, rows and rows of new, industrialized houses lining the road, along with the crafted mill, which straddled the stream and spurned a rancid overflow. Every tree along the Bywater road had been hacked, leaving only the mangled stumps across the blackened land.

It was as if walking amidst a nightmare.

However, as they crossed the bridge and looked up the hill, it became far worse, the image in the mirror hardly preparing Frodo for what was presented to him. The sight instigated a gasp from Pippin, and Merry simply stared with mouth agape.

All of the establishments had been emptied and stood in a decaying manner, even the beloved Green Dragon. The grass was bare, the trees were gone, brazen huts stood, and abandoned wagons were thrown carelessly about. Bagshot row, the gaffer's residence, was as mangled as the man had mentioned, and Bag End could not even be seen from beyond the large buildings now standing in the way.

The height of it, though, was the town center, where many dear memories had been held.

"They've cut it down!" cried Sam. "They've cut down the Party Tree!" He pointed to where the tree had stood, under which Bilbo had made his Farewell Speech that fateful day. However, it was now lying dead in the field, discarded entirely. It brought tears to his eyes, the frustration of the entire ordeal moving him so entirely.

Frodo looked mournfully upon the sight, as he recalled what a lively spot it had been. The lights, the music, the dancing…Gandalf's fireworks. All things he had cherished quite fervently. It brought an ache to his heart as he considered the state it was now in.

They all looked over then as someone laughed, the mood shifting almost instantly. It was a surly hobbit, lounging over the low wall of the mill-yard.

"Don't 'ee like it, Sam?" he sneered. "But you always was soft. I thought you'd gone off in one o' them ships you used to prattle about, sailing, sailing. What d'you want to come back for? We've work to do in the Shire now."

"So I see," answered Sam, his demeanor shifting to one of open frustration. "No time for washing, but time for wall-propping. But see here, Master Sandyman, I've a score to pay in this village, and don't you make it any longer with your jeering, or you'll surely foot a bill that's too much for your handelin'." Even as he declared this, his fist curled tightly.

Ted Sandyman spat over the wall. "Ye can't touch me. I'm a friend o' the Boss's. But he'll be unleashed upon _you_ alright, if I have anymore of your mouth."

Frodo had silently listened to the exchange, observing the hobbit as if he were not really one of his own. It was a sad fact, but one beyond his ability to change. He, too, began to feel a brewing frustration towards him. "Don't waste anymore words on the fool, Sam!" he said to his friend, though his eyes remained fixed on Ted. "I hope there aren't many more hobbits that have become like this. It would be a worse trouble than all the damage the Men have done."

For land, buildings and homes could be restored, but the souls and dispositions of the Shire's people would not be so easily mended.

"You are dirty and insolent, Sandyman," Merry said with a shake of his head, as Pippin stood fuming beside him. "And also very much out of your reckoning. We are just going up the Hill to remove your precious Boss. We have dealt with his Men."

Ted suddenly gaped, both at Merry's words and at the sight of Farmer Cotton's escort crossing the bridge and appearing over the hill behind the four. He hastily spun and dashed for the mill, taking out his poorly crafted horn and blowing a warning to those whom he now served.

"Save your breath," Merry stated indignantly as he removed a silver horn from within the folds of his own robes, a gift from his travels. "I've a better!" He winded it, and the clear call rang out and over the hill, spreading across the land.

In answer, the hobbits emerged from within the holes, sheds and shabby houses of Hobbiton. They came pouring out, cheering as they spied the group upon the bridge, their boisterous shouting a mixture of joy and hopefulness. They joined the escort, intent to follow the company up the road to Bag End.

Frodo cast Merry a smile, feeling once more determined to finally settle everything. With his comrades backing him, he continued forward, resolved and steeling himself for what now awaited him. They reached the end of the lane a moment later, and the escort stood back, as their four leaders continued forward. Farmer Cotton informed them he'd be ready and able to defend at their signal.

And then Frodo and his companions arrived at last to the once beloved place; his home. He glanced about, staring morosely at the scene. All of Sam's garden had been destroyed, and only some equipment and sheds littered the residential land. The door itself had been worn, and the bell beside it dangled loosely upon its chain. Pippin attempted to ring it, but no chime was emitted.

"How dare they," Sam muttered, as he also looked to where his garden had stood.

After a sigh, Frodo resolved not to dwell too heavily on his home at the moment, as he lifted a hand to deliver a knock upon the door. However, he was met with no answer. With a glance to Merry, he readied himself and pushed the door open, its hinges yielding easily.

They all four entered, and the odor that reached them was incredibly foul. The place looked abandoned and unkempt, entirely full of filth and disorder. It was littered with all manner of objects, the windows covered and preventing most light from entering.

"We should search the rooms, see if anyone's about," Sam suggested.

Frodo nodded, "but we stay together."

It was eerily silent, and, as they moved through the place, Frodo couldn't help but speculate that it almost seemed more foreign than familiar. He passed his Uncle's previous study and stared into the space with a far-off gleam in his eyes, seeing it for what it once was. His reaction was the same when they reached his bedroom, which now stood in such stark contrast to what he had remembered it as being.

However, along with these thoughts, came a dawning realization. It unsettled Frodo greatly, but grew more apparent with each step he took. The state of the Shire, the industry and felled forests, the ruffian men…it was all the result of a vengeance unleashed. He knew who was responsible. He had to wonder where the culprit had gone, though, and the fact that he was absent disturbed him.

When they circled back to the entryway, having seen no signs of life aside from a few stray rats and mice, Merry huffed rather loudly. "'Where is that miserable Lotho hiding?" He turned to Frodo, "Should I tell the others to search the sheds?"

After a moment of consideration, Frodo slowly nodded. It would probably prove best. Before Merry had gone, however, he seemed to detect the look on Frodo's face and lingered with questioning eyes.

"This is worse than Mordor!" Sam declared, mirroring some of Frodo's own thoughts. Much worse in a way. It comes home to you, as they say; because it is home, and you remember it before it was all ruined."

"'Yes, this is Mordor," said Frodo in agreement, discerning the look Merry was displaying, and deciding to inform them of who was responsible for the Shire's misfortunes. "Just one of its works. Saruman was doing its work all the time, even when he thought he was working for himself. And the same with those that Saruman tricked, like Lotho."

Pippin's eyes widened at the revelation, and Sam clenched a fist. Merry, too, reacted with anger as he looked about him with in dismay and disgust. "Let's get out!" he said. "If I had known all the mischief he had caused, I should have speared my sword down Saruman's throat."

"No doubt, no doubt! But you did not, and so I am able to welcome you home."

The ominous voice sounded from behind them, chilling them almost. However, as they each turned to see the white wizard himself, their anger overtook their fear. Saruman stared down at them as his eyes gleamed with malice and amusement. He appeared exceedingly pleased with himself.

"You're Sharkey," Frodo declared.

Saruman laughed. "So you have heard the name, have you? All my people used to call me that in Isengard, I believe. A sign of affection, possibly. But evidently you did not expect to see me here."

"Not until a moment ago, no," said Frodo. "But I guessed. A little mischief in a mean way. Gandalf warned me that you were still capable of it."

"Quite capable," said Saruman, "and more than a little. You made me laugh, you hobbit-lordlings, riding along with all those great people so secure and so pleased with your little selves. You thought you had done very well out of it all, and could now just amble back and have a nice quiet time in the country. Saruman's home could be all wrecked, and he could be turned out, but no one could touch yours. Oh no! Gandalf would look after your affairs." His voice was filled with a biting disdain.

He laughed again and stepped towards Frodo, "'Not he! When his tools have done their task he drops them. But you must go dangling after him, dawdling and talking, and riding round twice as far as you needed. 'Well,' thought I, 'if they're such fools, I will get ahead of them and teach them a lesson. One ill turn deserves another.' It would have been a better lesson, if only you had given me a little more time and more Men. Still I have already done much that you will find it hard to mend or undo in your lives. And it will be pleasant to think of that in light of my own losses."

"Well, if that is what you find pleasure in," said Frodo, his expression softening slightly. He found, even standing within the presence of the man responsible for all their recent hardship, that he could not maintain any grudge or feeling of anger. Saruman had sought to avenge what had been taken from him, and, despite how despicable that pursuit was, it was entirely pitiful.

"I pity you, as I fear it will be a pleasure of memory only." He steeled his words, "Go at once and never return!"

Merry glared along with Pippin, hands on their sword hilts, both somewhat against allowing the traitorous wizard to leave alive.

Sam, however, looked to Frodo with no glimmer of surprise. It was expected, as he had pardoned others in a similar way.

The hobbits from outside, though, were far more adamant in their protests. They'd seen Saruman emerge from one of the outer lying huts, and ascended the slope to crowd the door of Bag End, Farmer Cotton among them. They had heard Frodo's command and began to mutter angrily, "Don't let him go! Kill him! He's a villain and a murderer. Kill him!"

Saruman turned and looked down into their hostile faces with a smile. "_Kill him_!" he mocked. "By all means do so, if you think there are enough of you, my brave hobbits!" He drew himself up and stared at them darkly with his black eyes. "Do not think that when I lost all my goods I lost all my power! Whoever strikes me shall be accursed. And if my blood stains the Shire, it shall wither and never again be healed."

The hobbits looked to him fearfully and began to recoil. However, Frodo spoke up to them. "Do not believe him! He has lost all power, save his voice that can still daunt and deceive you, if you let it." He eyed them all sternly, "But I will not have him slain. It is useless to meet revenge with revenge. It will heal nothing." He glanced to the wizard, "Go, Saruman, by the speediest way!"

Saruman looked to Frodo and appeared to consider a moment, before seeming to make up his mind, as his bluff had been called. He then raised his voice and shouted behind him, "Wormtongue!"

Grima emerged from the same hut and crept up the pathway to his master, eyes wide as he observed the irate crowd. "You called?"

'"Indeed," said the wizard. "These fine fellows and lordlings are turning us adrift again. Come along!"

As Saruman turned to go, though, with Grima shuffling behind him, he pulled a knife from within his cloak and swiftly stabbed at Frodo. However, the blade was met only with the mithril of the hobbit's undercoat, and it snapped upon impact. Frodo stepped back, eyes widening as Merry and Pippin each reached out to support him. He lifted a hand to where the blade had struck and sought to catch his breath.

Saruman only had a moment to consider what had happened in surprise before the hobbits from beyond the door, led by Sam, cried out in protest and leaped towards him, forcing him to the ground. Sam unsheathed his sword and held it to the villain's neck, entirely intent on ridding him from the world.

Frodo recovered quickly and stepped towards the scene, "No, Sam!"

Sam gazed at his friend with furrowed brows, as the other hobbits looked to one another in confusion.

"Do not kill him even now, for he has not hurt me," Frodo continued, his eyes falling upon the wizard. "And furthermore, I do not wish him to be slain in this way. He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his cure is beyond us." His tone again softened, "but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it."

With a reluctant nod, and again without any further form of surprise, Sam returned his sword to its scabbard. He released the wizard and held out a hand to stay the other hobbits, lest they take it upon themselves to finish the task.

Saruman immediately stood and stared at Frodo, his dark eyes conveying a strange look of mingled wonder, respect and hatred. "You have grown, Halfling," he said finally, his voice solemn and low. "Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it, and you!"

He took a step back, and continued in the same tone of voice. "Well, I will go and will trouble you no more. Do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell."

Frodo hid his reaction to those words, though they struck deep, for he had already suspected that the effects of the ring would be permanent and incurable.

Saruman turned to go, headed for the door as the hobbits stepped aside, though their expression were vengeful and their knuckles whitened upon their weapons. It took an immense amount of strength for them to contain their fury.

Wormtongue glanced over, hesitated, and then followed after his master.

Frodo glanced to Grima, and considered him a moment before calling out. "Wormtongue!"

The man paused, before glancing behind him curiously.

"You need not follow him," Frodo stated. "I know of no evil you have done to me. You can rest here for a while, until you are stronger and can go your own way."

Grima's eyes widened and he stared at the hobbit, half prepared to stay.

"No evil?" Saruman turned and laughed. "Oh no! Even when he sneaks out at night it is only to look at the stars. But did I hear someone ask where poor Lotho is hiding?" He glanced to Merry before his gaze settled on his subordinate. "You know, don't you, Worm? Will you tell them?"

Wormtongue cowered down and whimpered, "No, no!"

"Then I will," said Saruman, looking to the hobbits. "He killed your Chief, poor little fellow, your nice little Boss." He again glanced to Grima. "Didn't you? Stabbed him in his sleep, I believe. Buried him, I hope; though you _have_ been very hungry lately." His attention rested on Frodo, "No, he is not very nice. You had better leave him to me."

Frodo swallowed, feeling an ache at hearing the news of Lotho's death. It was a sorrowful matter indeed, but one he'd feared all the same.

A look of wild hatred came into Wormtongue's eyes as he observed Saruman. "You told me to! _You_ made me do it."

And at that, Frodo was instantly reminded of another poor creature, one whom had been so entirely bound to the ring's fate; one who had perished in the flames along with it. How somehow similar Smeagol and Grima were. It was a striking realization.

Saruman answered Grima with a laugh, "You always do what Sharkey says, don't you? Well, now he says to_ follow_!"He kicked Wormtongue in the face as he groveled, before turning to continue his departure.

But something snapped from within Grima. He suddenly and impulsively rose, drawing a hidden knife, and leaping forward with a snarl like a dog as he rushed on Saruman, who had no time to react.

Wormtongue jerked the wizard's head back, cut his throat in one swift motion, and then instantly made to run off. Before Frodo could recover or speak a word, eyes still set on the fallen wizard, three hobbit-bows twanged and the arrows imbedded themselves within Wormtongue, who fell dead to them in a heap. Frodo's gaze shifted, and he stared at the scene with regret. It seemed the fate of the pair could not be swayed, after all.

Then the cerulean of his gaze returned to the body of Saruman in pity and horror. It seemed the long years of corruption were suddenly revealed in it, as it had shrunk, and the shriveled face became rags of skin upon a hideous skull. Frodo swallowed and knelt, lifting the hem of the wizard's dirty cloak, before using it to cover the skeletal face. He rose and turned away, looking instead to his companions.

"And that's the end of that," said Sam. "A nasty end, and one I wish I hadn't needed to see; but it's good riddance."

"And the very last end of the War, I hope," said Merry.

"I hope so," Frodo sighed. "The very last stroke." He shook his head, "But to think that it should fall here, at the very door of Bag End. Among all my hopes and fears, I never expected that."

"I won't call it the end, till we've cleared up the mess," said Sam resolutely. "And that'll take a lot of time and work."

Pippin loudly exhaled at that, also considering how long it might take.

"We can worry 'bout all that later," Tolman spoke up as he approached with his sons. "We'd best be headin' home for now, and lettin' them all know we've come out of this alright."

Frodo nodded, and, after sparing a final glance across his home, emerged into the outside, his companions along with him. He crossed the threshold of Bag End, as he had those long months ago, and felt as if it had been years since he had stood and stared out across his homeland, his own eyes feeling unknown to him as he compared them to the outlook he'd once had.

'_Do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither_,' Saruman's voice reached him, foreboding and troubling.

…

As soon as the group entered the warm residence of Farmer Cotton, Lily released a joyous outcry as she rose from the table and rushed forward to embrace her husband. She held him tight and then approached her three oldest sons to plant a firm kiss on each of their cheeks.

Nibs excitedly approached his brothers and began to ask details of the battle, his eyes gleaming with interest. Rosie looked on with a relieved smile, before looking over and glancing appreciatively to each Frodo and Sam.

Merry and Pippin spoke with the gaffer a moment, before declaring that they were going to get some sleep. Lily nodded and led them to their rooms, while also asking Rosie to boil some water for tea.

Sam observed the scene as his mind settled, already feeling the relaxation of normalcy sweeping over him. However, from beside him, Frodo found himself hard put to adjust to the shift, though he was exceedingly pleased to observe the unbroken family in their delight. He just felt somehow apart, and distant.

"They're plannin' on throwin' a celebration!" Jolly hollered, drawing the attention and then rolling his eyes as Rosie approached and inquired over his shoulder.

"It's a scratch, no need to be fussin'!"

"Scratch or no, it needs mending," Rosie argued, before directing him to sit.

"A party," Tolman shook his head. "Our folk're always lookin' for an excuse."

"I think it's a good idea," put in Young Tom. "It'll get our minds off everythin' else for a bit."

"Could be right, I s'pose," his father consented.

They went about their business then, with Lily returning to attend to her son's shoulder, and Rosie proceeding to pour some mugs of tea, which was gratefully received by them all. The evening set upon them and, before the veil of night, everyone, including Frodo, decided to take an early slumber, entirely spent from exhaustion.


	3. Reuniting and Renovating

**A/N: **A happy belated birthday goes out to both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins :)

* * *

><p><em>A Journey of Hobbits<em>_**: **_**[All That Glistens]**

**.+.**

Chapter III

Reuniting and Renovating

"_Distant flickering, greener scenery.  
>This weather's bringing it all back again.<br>Great adventures, faces and condensation.  
>I'm going outside to take it all in<em>._"_

_-Imogen Heap_

**.+.**

The day that followed had everyone fulfilling various tasks, the remedial process endeavored more fully. Sam had taken to instructing a large group with the rebuilding plans and preparations. Every able hobbit was assisting him, of all ages. The children, the elderly, and most of the hobbit lasses (Rosie included). They were all exceedingly eager and willing to restore their home.

Merry, along with several of the strongest fighters, counting Farmer and Cotton and his oldest sons, was set with the task to hunt what remained of the ruffians, who were already beginning to flee after hearing what had befallen the gang in Bywater. Pippin planned to join them as well, after first accompanying Frodo to Michel Delving, where they would release all of Saruman's prisoners from the Lockholes.

"It's a sad bit, isn't it?" Pippin mused, head tilted as he rode beside Frodo.

Frodo simply nodded as they drew nearer. Only a small party of hobbits were accompanying him, most of whom were somehow connected to the prisoners. Their hope was evident, as well as the apprehension of the possible state in which they might discover their beloved ones to be.

"This is it. This is the place," Nibs declared, as he rushed up beside Frodo and Pippin. He had been very enthusiastic over being allowed to accompany them on this expedition, having wanted to help in some small way at least.

At that, Frodo dismounted, Pippin following suit beside him, and they both approached the first of the Lockholes. Upon opening it, Frodo briefly peered inside the dimly lit area, before he stepped backed as someone stumbled forward.

It took him a moment to recognize the individual but, upon doing so, he smiled warmly. Why, who was it if not Fatty Bolger himself!? Though, as Frodo's expression shifted into one more morose, he realized that the nickname was no longer quite as fitting, as poor Fredegar appeared half-starved. Would they find many of their own in this state?

Leaning down, he reached an arm around him, and helped him stand, supporting the frail hobbit as Pippin rushed forward to help from his other side.

"Oh," Fredegar mumbled as he blinked from the light of the sun and struggled within the hold of his fellows, knees shaking. "Thank you."

"How'd _you_ get caught?" Pippin asked.

"I," Fredegar furrowed his brows a moment, trying to recall. "Led a group. Yes, I led them," he nodded. "We went against those ruffians. They were stealin' all our food and supplies. Had to get it back. Was around those hills of Scary that we were captured."

Frodo smiled to himself as he gently eased Fredegar onto the ground. He had valiantly taken a stand against the invaders, even going so far as to start up a rebellion.

Pippin shook his head, thinking back on the day he and Merry had gone on that field raid to Farmer Maggot's, the day they'd ran into Frodo and Sam, signaling the start of their own part in the entire journey. It just so happened that they had offered to have Fredegar come along, but he'd been far too concerned over the matter of the farmer's dogs.

"It would've been better if you'd come with us after all," Pippin patted his shoulder, "poor 'ol Fred."

Fredegar opened his eyes and looked up at him, squinting and trying to smile. "Oh, it's you. The loud voice. Pippin." He furrowed his brows again, "and, hm…that's true." He tilted his head, "…maybe."

Frodo's smile widened a little at his words, before he stood and glanced to Pippin. The latter immediately interpreted the look and rose beside him, as they both turned to the next prison.

Within this one was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins herself, looking aged and thin as she emerged from the dark and narrow confines of her cell. However, her spirit was as willful as ever, as she insisted on hobbling forward without assistance. Frodo regarded her with a prominent pity, the woman before him always such a nuisance to his uncle in her efforts to obtain the house, yet now reduced to this current, worn state. However, she was dignified in her manner, and according to Young Tom's account, insatiably courageous.

When she stumbled, Frodo strode to her side, and offered his arm. "It's alright," he asserted.

Lobelia appeared as if she might refuse at first but, after a moment, she somewhat reluctantly wrapped her arm through his and leaned on him the rest of the way, Frodo noting the traces of disguised gratitude.

As they exited together, Lobelia was welcomed by the group with cheers and claps, all having heard of her gallant dealings with the ruffians. Frodo glanced down at her and smiled as he saw how touched she appeared by the greeting, tears welling in her eyes. She had never before been very popular among the hobbits.

However, as her eyes scanned the crowd, her expression became concerned. "Where's that Lotho gone off to?"

Frodo's eyes lowered, considering the poor tragedy that had befallen her son.

Nibs approached, a look of sympathy in his eyes. "He was killed by that Sharkey, so I hear." He glanced to Frodo for affirmation.

Frodo nodded, and then held Lobelia's arm a little tighter, in an effort to provide what comfort he could to the woman. She appeared crushed by the news, the tears returning to her eyes. However, she then placed a hand over his, regarding him with open appreciation, and Frodo knew that the feud standing between them had been annulled.

After a moment, Nibs offered his own arm to the woman and led her to where Fredegar sat, taking on the role of consoling her. Frodo spared her a final, empathetic glance, before continuing towards the next of the Lockholes.

They found old Will Whitfoot, the mayor of the Shire, though it looked as if it would be some time before he was ready to take up that position again. He said as much to Frodo as he was led to where Lobelia and Fredegar were sitting.

"Well," Frodo replied, considering a moment before smiling. "I'd be willing to act as your Deputy for the time being, until you've found your strength again."

"I'd be much appreciatin' of that, Master Baggins," Whitfoot responded with a pat to the lad's arm.

Frodo nodded and then looked over as Pippin shouted from another Lockhole, ushering him over with an excited grin. He furrowed his brows before making his way toward the exuberant Took and glancing inside the cellar.

"I'd say that's more than enough to hold us over, eh?" Pippin asked, referring to the very large store of food, ale, and pipe-weed.

With another nod, Frodo called out to some of the others to gather a bit of the food to offer the rescued prisoners. It seemed, as more of their fellow hobbits were liberated, that none had perished within their confinement, which considerably lifted the weight that had been lingering over him. The situation was not as dismal and he had originally feared, and he found himself even somewhat marveling at the fact that Saruman had left so many alive.

His aim had not been to shed blood, and Frodo even managed a semblance of gratitude towards the wizard for that. He had noted upon their encounter that Saruman wasn't wholly evil, merely another individual who had been deceived and corrupted by Sauron's influence. And so he, having also been subject to that same influence, could hardly condemn him for it.

…

They had been traversing the countryside all morning, and had managed to drive out around twenty of the remaining ruffians. Merry conversed with Farmer Cotton, as they discussed other possible locations for searching. They argued briefly, one siding with the likelihood that the majority had ventured west, while the other determinedly maintained the position that they'd definitely gone east.

From beside them, Jolly was speaking with his brothers about the party, apparently unbothered by any present concern. "I hear they're tryin' to arrange it for tomorrow night. If they can get everythin' squared away by then."

"The party tree was ruined," Young Tom replied. "Jus' where're they expectin' to be havin' it?"

Jolly shrugged, "they'll figure somethin' out. There's other places to celebrate."

"That's the traditional one."

"'Spose we'll have to start a new tradition then. We can't possibly go without parties."

Nick just shook his head at the pair, as he scanned the line of overhanging trees beside them. He couldn't deny he was a little anxious with their enemies still about.

"This area's seemin' pretty quiet," Tolman remarked to Merry.

The Brandybuck pursed his lips slightly as they walked on, attempting to determine if there was anything he was missing. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something just _wasn't_ right.

After a moment though, he sighed, and offered a nod. "Well, I suppose we should jus-"

Merry's eyes widened though, when someone sprung out from the trees ahead, bow armed and aimed straight for him. However, in an instant, the foe was felled by a rogue arrow, and his shot missed its mark. Blinking his eyes as the group around him remained tensely posed, Merry glanced about for the interceding archer.

A short laugh was all he heard before someone strode forth from within his own company, hooded and holding a wooden, handcrafted bow. The individual then lowered his hood to reveal a familiar face, a smirk forming in greeting.

"Well, well, if it isn't Cap'n Meriadoc!"

"Folco Boffin," Merry responded with a sigh and narrowed set of his eyes.

"The one and only," the exuberant hobbit responded. "And, I do believe," he tilted his head towards where the ruffian had fallen. "You owe me."

Merry shook his head, simply staring at the other hobbit without awarding him a response. There'd been a bit of a rift between him and Folco since their tween days, when they'd both sought the affection of one Estella Bolger. Those days were long behind them, but the other hobbit had continued to find amusement in provoking and teasing him about it.

Merry turned to continue forward then, but paused in his steps. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to diminish his own irritation. He was above this. After everything that had happened over the last year, a petty thing like this was not worth his time.

"Thank you," he said to Folco before looking to Farmer Cotton and stating that he wanted to search the area more fully.

Folco watched him walk away, smirk widening. He'd heard that the four runaways had changed, and he'd even seen it himself on the battlefield the prior afternoon. Having been a longtime acquaintance of each Merry and Pippin, and a good friend of Frodo's, he'd sorely missed them after they'd left.

And he was ecstatic to see them back again, changed or no. He was sure they were all very much the same underneath. A fact he'd just attempted to prove with Merry. He'd come out reasonably victorious too, as, even despite Merry's relenting to thank him, there'd been a brief moment of that old hostility.

It delighted Folco to see it. Things in the Shire had suddenly become a lot more interesting.

…

Sam lifted a hand to rub his eyes, the afternoon starting to take its toll on him. They'd cleared out the town center and were working on fixing up the surrounding establishments. His gaffer and the older gents had discussed a celebration too, and so a group had been assigned to tidy up the clearing where the party tree had stood.

"Here you are, Sam."

He looked up and smiled as Lily Cotton approached him with a flask of water. He nodded and gratefully accepted it, feeling immediately refreshed as he drank. His eyes habitually lifted and searched the crowd for Rosie, and his smile widened as he saw her standing with a group of lasses who were working on renovating the Green Dragon.

From across the way, Rosie caught Sam staring and politely smiled at him. This, of course, prompted him to remove his scrutiny and immediately return to his work. She watched him a moment longer before turning and looking up at the broken tavern.

It was a shame to be sure, that it had been reduced into such a state. It was a place she had really enjoyed working. With a heavy sigh, she moved her bangs from where they'd fallen over her eyes, and then continued to help move some of the worn and damaged structural pieces to the pit, which the party committee planned to ignite as a bonfire for the celebration.

"Rosie."

The lass looked up as she was approached by one of her best acquaintances, Diamond of Long Cleeve. A rather quirky, and matter-of-fact hobbit, with dark hair that was tied up in its signature fashion. She was set in her ways, and rarely did anything that would stray from the norm.

"Hello," Rosie replied a bit breathlessly as she wiped the dust from her hands.

Diamond approached and then looked pointedly towards where Sam stood. "He's back."

Rosie smiled patiently, "yes, I know. He and the others are staying with my family." The younger lass could always be counted upon to point out the obvious.

"Are you happy?"

"Uhm," Rosie nodded, smile lingering. "Yes, I am. It's very good to see them all again."

"But especially Sam," Diamond stated bluntly, her eyes even looking a little impish at her own comment.

Rosie was silent, before nodding again. "Yes."

She turned to stride back to the tavern, and Diamond followed. She could already see that the lass intended to question her further on the matter, and it admittedly made her feel a little uncomfortable, as she still didn't know where she and Sam actually stood. She'd been expecting a proposal from him for years now, but he'd always seemed too shy to approach her about it.

It wasn't long until Diamond's next inquiry came. "So, where's he been all this time?"

"I'm not at all certain," Rosie shrugged with a glance in Sam's direction. She still fully intended to discuss that very matter in further detail with him.

"Hm," Diamond replied, also looking over at him. "Well, I think it's strange. They all vanished and have suddenly returned out of nowhere."

"Yes, it is," Rosie agreed, busying herself with her task. She absently wondered to herself which job Diamond had been assigned.

"I see you two have been assigned the more _strenuous _labors," an airy voice drifted over to the pair.

They each looked up to see Estella, fair hair wisping in the wind, and shapely brow arched. She was a Bolger and therefore belonged to the wealthier class of hobbits. Diamond and Rosie's families, alternatively, were of the working class, and therefore subject to her frequent, belittling regard.

"Well," Diamond immediately replied, in the same even tone of voice she always used. "I see that _you_ aren't doing any work at all."

Estella's brow rose further, "you really believe you can speak to me that way?"

"I can sp-"

"That's quite enough," Rosie interrupted Diamond, awarding her a stern look before also glancing to Estella. "If you don't mind, we are rather busy here, and so we'd both appreciate it if you would simply leave us to our work."

Estella silently met Rosie's unwavering stare, before huffing beneath her breath and continuing past them. "Yes, yes, continue with what you do best."

Diamond watched as the lass walked away then, hips swaying and head held high. She gripped the skirt of her dress in frustration. "She makes me angry."

Rosie sighed, "I know, but you really shouldn't allow her to rile you up so. It won't do you any good."

"I try."

Rosie offered her a nod, "I suppose that's all anyone can ask of you." She smiled, "but, let's just get back to work, alright?"

"Of course," Diamond replied. "Work."

"Indeed," Rosie directed a pointed stare to her friend.

"Right," Diamond made to turn abruptly, before swiftly glancing back, nodding her head, and turning again to shuffle down the path to where she'd been assigned.

A small smile crossed Rosie's face as she shook her head, before she also turned and strode into the Green Dragon, where several hobbits were trying their best to fix the foundations and dust out the unused establishment.

She spotted Sam's gaffer and approached him with a welcoming grin, "I see you're already up and busying yourself so soon after yesterday's battle. That son of yours takes after you in that way."

"Aye, my boy's always been a hardworking lad," The gaffer cast her a wink. "I'm sure you already be knowin' of that though, miss."

"Indeed I do," she nodded good-naturedly.

"Oh," the man's eyes widened then as they looked past the lass. "Here he comes now."

Rosie's brows rose in surprise and she glanced back to see Sam himself, a shy expression on his face and eyes set on her.

"Taking a break are you?" She tilted her head.

"Beggin' your pardon," Sam gave a little bow, "but I was recallin' what you'd said yesterday, 'bout wantin' me to explain as much as I could. I have a bit of time to spare now, and was wonderin' if you'd like to take a turn with me down the lane. You can ask all the questions you like."

It was a forward pitch to be sure, by Sam's reckoning. Rosie cast a swift gaze about the inn before looking to him with a firm nod. "That'd be lovely."

He appeared delighted with her response and they both strode into the busy square before making their way to the seclusion of the neighboring lane, which Sam had always taken to Bagshot row from previous visits to Rosie's place of work.

It was silent for several moments, wherein the lass contented herself with the easy company of the man beside her and the rest afforded from taking her mind off the work she'd been so focused on since daybreak.

She glanced over and saw that Sam was merely staring straight ahead, his aversion so obviously intentional. She wondered if he would ever feel entirely comfortable within her presence.

"Well, Sam," Rosie smiled gently. "Why don't you tell me how this all started? I do believe that the last I saw of either you or your Mr. Frodo was when you exited my inn there in that second week of last year's October. Come to think of it, that'd be the last I saw of Mister's Merry and Pippin as well. They had really livened up the place that evening, singing their songs and dancing atop my tables."

Sam nodded, and even managed a smile at the memory of the two more boisterous of his fellow hobbits. "Right you are, Miss Rosie. That was the very night Mr. Gandalf showed up at Bag End. I overheard him speaking to Mr. Frodo about that Ring. Powerful weapon of the enemy, that."

Within the duration of an hour, Sam told Rosie all he could of his exploits over the past several months. She listened patiently, at times in disbelief, awed at what he and the others had experienced beyond the boundaries of the Shire.

She found herself struggling to entirely comprehend all that he was telling her of, not least of all the matter of 'the Ring', which he'd merely described as some sort of magical instrument, designed by evil and used by evil to assert destruction and dominance.

His task had been that of looking after Mr. Frodo, a promise made to Gandalf, and he had maintained that promise to the very limits of his abilities. Rosie felt proud of him, openly commending his loyalty, even if she didn't fully understand the imperative mission they had all volunteered for.

He mentioned that the Ring was a heavy burden upon his dear friend, 'altering' and attempting to take possession of his mind. It completely bemused her, but she only continued to listen to all he had to say, not wanting to interrupt.

When he spoke of his rescuing Mr. Frodo after he'd been taken by the enemy, she considered the words of the young Baggins concerning Sam. She again looked to the hobbit himself in awe, admiring that bravery and strength he possessed.

Most of his accountings _did _all sound rather fantastical, as her father had said, the very essence of them. However, the fact remained that Sam had conducted himself honorably, highly deserving of the praises he'd received. It was something which defined his character, and it was something which Rosie could absolutely understand. Something that was tangible and reachable.

And she couldn't quite explain to herself, not as yet, that the strange quest of theirs seemed of such a nature that it bordered the spiritual. The adventure Sam described, in pursuit of preventing the corruption of their entire world, was on an incomprehensible scale. It left her questioning why, though, such a task had been assigned to hobbits.

They turned to head back, and the Cotton lass' mind was full as it sorted through the things he'd told her. Her heart was also, as it continued to feel an immense level of admiration. Sam had conducted himself as valiantly as any she'd ever known, and she was certainly glad to have him back again.

…

"Will you be joining Merry tomorrow?" Frodo asked Pippin as they made their way towards the Bolger's residence, Fredegar being carefully supported behind them. Their progression was slow, but all were patient.

Already the sky was tinted with the dwindling recesses of the evening, the stars above beginning to break through the overcast in the sky.

Pippin nodded, "I reckon I will, unless he's already managed to round 'em all up."

"Well, considering that he plans to cover a great portion of the Shire, from here to the Brandywine," Frodo offered with a glance at his kin. "I'd say it's safe to assume as much."

Pippin smiled, "you're probably right."

It was quiet a moment, before Nibs sidled up between them. Both Frodo and Pippin had offered up their mounts to some of the more feeble of the rescued, and so had journeyed back on foot. They each spared the youngest Cotton a glance, and he met their stares with an excited one of his own.

"Today was a success, wasn't it?" He asked, a lopsided grin spreading. Within his hand, he held a withering dandelion, which he proceeded to casually twirl between his fingertips.

"Mhm, a tremendous success," Pippin nodded.

Nibs blew at the flower, and watched in childlike delight as the bristles wafted upward within the light breeze.

Frodo blinked as a few of those soft quills strayed into his eyes, and he lifted a hand to gently rub at them.

Nibs' smile immediately faded and his expression turned apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Baggins!"

The older hobbit merely afforded him a soft smile, "it's quite alright. No harm done." He then tilted his head, and regarded Nibs sincerely. "And, I entirely agree with Pippin. You did remarkably well today. I do appreciate you taking the time to comfort Lobelia the way you did."

Nibs appeared at once ecstatic over the small bit of praise, and his smile returned. "You really think so?! I-er, thank you! I'm real appreciative of that." He then looked a bit sheepish, "d'you…think you could repeat that whenever my pa and brothers are around?"

Frodo couldn't hide his amusement at the lad's request, but he also didn't spare him the stern, slightly admonishing look that followed. "Listen to this now, worthy acts can often be tainted when one seeks to flaunt them for his own sake."

Nibs' eyes lowered a bit in a brief show of disappointment before he slowly nodded and looked to Frodo. "I s'pose that makes sense."

Frodo reached up and patted his shoulder, before looking to the hill that came into view. He spied the familiar door of the Bolger home, and then glanced back to see Fredegar, whose widened eyes were firmly set on the place.

"Happy to be back?" Pippin asked, also looking to the Bolger.

"Yes," Fredegar nodded. "Yes, I am. It's…uhm, actually, I don't really know what to say about it. Just that I feel happy. Yes, very happy."

He stumbled forward then, and Frodo and Pippin followed close behind, lest his legs were to give out. Frodo glanced over and scanned the path leading down to Hobbiton, catching sight of someone slowly ascending and feeling another smile form in response.

Estella Bolger habitually ran a hand through her hair, still a bit peeved by the way both Cleeve and Cotton had spoken to her. She examined her own conduct and reasoned that she'd maintained composure in light of their insolence. She felt considerably proud of her ability to do so.

And she was overjoyed when that Gamgee had _finally_ announced that everyone could take their leave for the night. It was a welcome relief, as she felt so severely overworked and was in much need of a hot bath and early slumber.

Looking up, she took a moment to process the gathering of people making their way to her house. The lass was at first irritated and wondered what they could all possibly want, before her eyes shifted to the individual at the forefront of the group, instant relief replacing anything else she was feeling.

Breaking into a run, Estella felt her eyes already beginning to sting with the rush of joy at seeing her brother again. Her hair flew out behind her wildly, and she didn't even pay any to mind the fact that it was becoming tangled.

"Freddy!" She exclaimed, pushing herself to move faster.

Fredegar looked up with furrowed brows, wondering who it was calling out to him, before he realized and smiled. "Oh, Est-"

She collided into him, arms wrapping about his neck and holding him tightly. Ever since he'd led that ridiculous rebellion and gotten himself caught, she'd feared the very worst.

Eyes closed, she felt her tears falling freely and didn't bother trying to stop them. "Thank heavens!" She sobbed and, even amidst that sob, laughed joyously. "You're alright."

Pippin smiled widely, feeling immensely happy for them both. From beside him, Frodo was also exceedingly touched by the display, and felt his heart lift considerably. The reuniting of these poor hobbits with their families was the most pleasing sight he had seen since their return to the Shire.

Fredegar simply reached up and gave his sister a good pat on the back. "Yes, I'm alright. They saved me."

Estella looked up then, to each Frodo and Pippin, and grinned widely. "Thank you so much!" She held Fredegar tighter, eyes closing again. "Oh, a_ million_ thanks."

Frodo merely offered a nod, despite her not being able to see it, and then looked back to the others. "Let's continue."

They still needed to escort two more to their homes before returning to Farmer Cotton's residence. The group made their way past the siblings then and towards the next residence. The air was growing colder within the autumn evening, and Frodo subconsciously shuddered and pulled his cloak tighter around himself, mind occupied with the events of the last few hours.

His eyes lifted to the sight of the moon, its presence becoming clearer as the sky darkened. It seemed everything was beginning to settle now, the Shire reclaiming some of the serenity it had always afforded in the past. However, still, he couldn't quite manage to connect with it at all, or share in that serenity.

Frodo reasoned that he was still recovering from his quest, and wondered how long it might take for his heart to finally and fully return to his home. He looked forward to that day, and fought to remain hopeful that it would come sooner rather than later. He longed for it more than anything. The transition seemed to come much easier to his companions, but he concluded that it was only to be expected. He had been traumatized in spirit as well as body, and that damage would undoubtedly take sufficiently more time to recover from.

…

"Mr. Frodo, there you are," Sam announced as he descended the steps leading down from Tolman's front door.

"Sam," Frodo smiled and offered a nod.

"Are you hungry at all? We managed to scrape together a decent supper."

"Hm," Frodo replied, knowing Sam might scold him if he flat refused to eat. "I'll have something in a bit. I actually," his gaze shifted to the narrow path beside him. "Wanted to take a quiet stroll before going inside."

"A stroll?" Sam's brows furrowed. "But you've been out walkin' all day. You must be exhausted!"

"I won't be long," Frodo assured him, his eyes returning to the worried gaze of his gardener. "Go ahead and set something out for me."

Sam appeared to hesitate before reluctantly nodding. "Alright, Mr. Frodo. But, if you're not back in twenty minutes I'll come out lookin' for you."

"Don't worry," Frodo offered only before turning and heading for the path, pausing by the gate to observe the sight of the damaged land from the position of the Cotton family's house on the hill.

Sam sighed heavily before turning and heading back inside, just as Nibs had finished his telling of his day at Michel Delving. The lad seemed to have paused, considering something, before looking up at Pippin and then concluding his account by saying that they'd all agreed on the success of their venture.

"Well, I'd say each of us did a splendid job with what we was assigned," Tolman offered.

"I'll be joining you all tomorrow," Pippin stated after him, then looking to Merry. "Today went well for you, then?"

"Oh, yeah," Merry replied. "Swell. We ran out at least thirty of those ruffians and, oh, that's right, I was saved by none other than Folco Boffin."

"Folco?" Pippin asked, smirking widely. "Well, that's just grand, isn't it?"

"You're telling me," Merry shook his head. "Gloated about it too in that typical fashion of his."

"Well, it's nice to know some things have stayed the same, eh?"

"Hm," Merry mumbled in reply to that.

…

Lily set another stack of plates in the cabinet, before making her way to where the water was boiling over the fire. Rosie stood at the washing basin, scrubbing at the dishes and reaching up a hand to move the hair from her eyes.

Absently, she looked up and out the window, peering into the night without a thought, before she caught sight of someone moving from the gate and then making his way slowly down the path beside the pumpkin patch.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to determine who it was. Recognition came to her a moment later and furrowed her brows as she wondered why Mr. Frodo was out wandering by himself like that. She assumed he'd be tired after his journey to the Lockholes.

However, as she continued to watch, something settled over her. A strange observation. For an instant, the form of Frodo Baggins appeared somehow spectral, as if he belonged to some other plane. A ghostly apparition set on haunting their property. Or, even perhaps a mere figment of imagination. As if he were not really even there at all.

It frightened her a little, and she shook her head at the nonsense of it. Purposefully looking away, Rosie held her attention on the plate in her hands, though her mind remained preoccupied.

Sam had given her an account of those physical struggles they'd both experienced, and had briefly mentioned the effects of bearing that Ring. She now found herself wondering what that had been like. Carrying such a thing. There was still a great deal she couldn't seem to understand about the whole ordeal.

Were the effects Sam had mentioned reversible? Had Mr. Frodo's mind been 'altered' permanently? That look in his eyes she'd only noticed in passing, that solemn stare, returned to her thoughts and only served to unnerve her further.


	4. A Celebration

**Disclaimer:** Merry and Pippin's song from this chapter belongs to Marc Gunn. 'Don't Go Drinking With Hobbits,' is the title. I would definitely recommend taking a listen ;)It's very amusing.

* * *

><p><em>A Journey of Hobbits<em>_**: **_**[All That Glistens]**

**.+.**

Chapter IV

A Celebration

"_I found a grave  
>Brushed off the face<br>Felt your light  
>And I remember why I know this place."<em>

_-Lana Del Rey_

**.+.**

The liveliness of the Shire had returned, remnants of its former vivacity reflected through the music and dancing of excited and victorious hobbits. A grand bonfire burned in the center, and kegs of ale had been brought from the Lockholes for the enjoyment of them all.

No clouds veiled the brilliance of the stars overlooking the gathering, and within the air hung the mingled scent of the Shire's finest pipe weed (also delivered from the Lockholes), and the rich fragrance emitted from the burning piles of lumber within the center fire.

A great many had already taken to dancing within the glow of those flames, frolicking shadows splaying out over the bystanders. Among them, Rosie danced beside Diamond, though their styles were entirely opposite. Where one preferred to pay specific attention to the proper form to utilize with the specific tempo, the other carelessly allowed the music to carry her along with it.

Diamond frowned a bit at Rosie's manner, watching as she completely missed a pivotal turn within the familiar routine. _'Maybe I should instruct her. It'd be a shame if she embarrasses herself in front of…' _She glanced about, knowing he'd surely be watching the object of his affection. _'Well, thank goodness he's not here yet.' _For she caught no sight of him.

Within her distraction, the dark-haired hobbit slammed into Rosie, who glanced back and laughed cheerily when the younger hobbit attempted to apologize, a look of pure dismay upon her face. Rosie grinned widely and slung an arm around her shoulder, leading her friend into a casual sway, and ignoring the disapproving look she received in response.

'_Great,' _Diamond thought, gripping her skirt tightly. _'Now I've made a fool of myself.'_

Near the kegs, Folco Boffin smirked and began pouring himself a generous helping of the golden liquid, bobbing his head and humming to the lively beat. He then glanced sideways as someone came up and began pouring himself an even larger mug.

"Look at _you_!" He clapped his hand against his fellow hobbit's shoulder. "Fatty no longer!"

Fredegar, whom had been dutifully concentrating on pouring his drink, looked up and blinked before a small smile crossed his face. "Oh, Folco. Hello."

Folco laughed and removed his hand, "I heard 'bout that little rebellion you led. I wasn't believing in it for a good week or so until that sister of yours set me straight." He extended his mug, "cheers to one of the bravest in all the Shire!"

Fredegar looked between his mug and Folco's a moment, before clapping his forward and watching a bit regretfully as some of the liquid sloshed onto the ground from the impact. He smiled though, when Folco tilted back his head to partake of a very lengthy sip. Fredegar promptly followed his example, smiling around the rim of his mug at the taste. _'Mm, yes, I've missed this very much.'_

Folco lowered his cup and lifted an arm to wipe his mouth against his sleeve. "Well," he nodded, "see you around, Fred." He scanned the crowd in search of the notorious four, but frowned a little when it seemed they hadn't shown yet.

From across the way, sitting regally at one of the tables (which had been arranged in a circular pattern), Estella Bolger eyed the dancers with a critical eye, one dainty foot tapping lightly to the tempo. She watched as Diamond and Rosie made complete spectacles of themselves, before her gaze wandered to the kegs, where she smiled upon seeing her brother helping himself to what she observed to be his fifth helping of ale already.

However, she rolled her eyes upon seeing Folco standing near him, the undignified Boffin having often served as a great annoyance to her. _'Forever stuck in the ways of a tween,' _she silently admonished before again directing her focus to the ring the dancers had formed around the fire.

"How 'bout a dance, lovely Miss?"

Estella blinked at the interruption before shifting her eyes to the left and then raising a brow at who she saw there. "Jolly Cotton," she said as her eyes slanted. "No, thank you. I'm afraid such a thing would be beneath me."

He looked entirely taken aback, and she had to suppress a smirk. However, in the next instant, he stood from his bowed position and retracted his hand, expression firm. "Very well. I s'pose I'd have to say the same."

He turned and Estella stared after him as he instead joined his sister within the ring. It was such a distasteful matter, all of these lower-class hobbits forgetting their place. It wasn't her concern if many of the other families had decided to disregard basic and proper conduct.

She flipped her hair and searched the crowd for any worthy gentlehobbit to set her sights upon. It seemed they were in short supply.

…

Strolling down the lane leading into Hobbiton, Merry and Pippin strode in front while Frodo and Sam followed behind. As they neared, they could hear the sound of the instruments being played and could see the billows of smoke from the bonfire, serving as a beacon to them.

As they paused atop the incline, the wind swept past and the excited gleam in the Took's eyes mirrored the invigorating light from the fire. Merry smirked, watching the movement of the dancers and inhaling the wonderful scents; scents of home.

Sam felt a small smile form as he considered the success of the celebration, even despite the absence of their beloved party tree. "Home at last," he muttered.

Frodo stared at the scene, taking it all in at once. It instilled a light sort of feeling to see his kinsman with their happiness restored. Their cheer was so evident, even from a distance. Sam was right, the Shire was finally recognizable again.

They continued down the slope and into the throng of the celebration, a few clapping their hands at their arrival and offering another chorus of praise towards the two captains at the forefront. Pippin grinned widely, and Merry nodded his head.

"You don't s'pose all this'll start gettin' to their heads, do you?" Sam whispered to Frodo as they all four came to a standstill.

Frodo glanced towards his dear gardener and then shifted his eyes to the duo before them. "Pippin, perhaps," he nodded good-naturedly, as he suppressed a smile and assumed a look of exaggerated solemnity. "But I'm afraid it's already been some time since we've lost Merry to the influence."

A wide grin formed on Sam's face as he nodded, and Frodo chuckled before following the crowd's example and applauding his kin.

Shifting her gaze at the commotion, Estella's annoyance with how loud they were being quickly vanished as she saw the golden-haired Brandybuck at the front. The corner of her lip lifted at the sight of him, and she tilted her head as her eyes took to scrutinizing him. _'So, he's returned along with the others. How pleasing.' _

Her smile fell, though, as she saw Folco approaching them. He was such an insufferable nuisance!

"Again we meet, my friend!"

"Folco," Merry offered a curt nod. He didn't want his annoyance with the other hobbit to ruin his evening though, and so he inhaled deeply to calm himself.

"I _heard_ you two ran into each other," Pippin grinned. "Good to see you."

"Good to be seen," Folco winked before looking next to Frodo and the Gamgee gardener beside him. He strode towards them and offered a hand. "Frodo. It's been awhile."

Frodo accepted his hand, "yes, I suppose it has." He managed a smile at the sight of his old friend, though the memories seemed so distant that it made recollecting with any clarity a bit difficult.

In the brief interlude, Folco hid his immediate astonishment when he noticed the missing finger on Frodo's opposite hand, though the Baggins appeared to make an attempt to conceal it. _'What happened there?' _

Frodo suppressed the discomfort prompted by Folco's glance to his left hand. The hobbit had as sharp an eye as ever. That missing finger was a permanent reminder of that which he was most ashamed.

"Where've you been?!" Folco exclaimed then, lowering his hand and instead lifting his mug to take another hearty sip of ale. He tried to ignore that unsettling stare of Frodo's. It was like some stranger was looking out at him through the face of his friend.

When Frodo's eyes lowered, Sam looked between them and considered it time to speak up. "Just 'bout anywhere you can imagine. Mr. Frodo's been out on a quest of sorts, see, an important one at that." He shrugged, "but, no need to be boggin' you down with the details just yet. This is a party, right? I think we shouldn't be wastin' any more time and start celebratin' instead."

Folco looked at the gardener a quiet moment. He got some impression of protectiveness from those words just spoken, and wondered why the two felt the need to hide the nature of their 'quest'. He was glad to see them, but he also had to admit that he was a little bitter about the fact that they had disappeared so suddenly, and that they were now avoiding the subject.

He'd known Frodo was close to Sam, but it was now apparent that the gardener had risen above any other acquaintance he'd had. Things had changed, and his earlier certainty that the four of them were all still the same underneath, wavered.

_I'll definitely be askin' them about this again,' _His smirk returned. '_But the gardener's right. This is a party, and I am glad to see them.' _He nodded to Sam, "well, let's not waste any more time then. I've noticed you're all empty handed, so…" he turned and motioned his hand forward, "let's get you a round a' drinks!"

Pippin cheered and Merry rolled his eyes before smirking and following after the boisterous hobbit. He could really use some ale. It was the only _real _way to celebrate, after all. The Brandybuck lifted his hands then to his coat and held them there, head held high as he walked. Ah yes…it was all settling over him. Things were back to normal again.

Sam stepped forward along with Frodo and, when the latter glanced to him and offered an appreciative smile, he returned it with a nod. He'd known Mr. Frodo hadn't wanted to be answering any questions about their travels tonight, and so he'd willingly taken it upon himself to help. He'd be doing so again too, on the chance that anyone else were to take up a similar mind to interrogate him.

They reached the kegs, and Folco maneuvered the crowd before going about pouring each of them a mug. He handed them back individually, and then raised his own in a salute. "To the reunion of friends!"

Merry offered him an indignant look, but lifted his cup anyway. Pippin eagerly nodded and did the same, while both Frodo and Sam smiled. When all four clinked their mugs together, they were silent as they each took a sip of the honeyed brew.

"Nothing better than a bit of that," Pippin peered fondly into his cup.

"It brings it all back, that's for sure," Merry concurred before taking another sip. "Mm," he shook his head. "I've missed this."

Frodo exchanged a brief glance with Sam, before awarding each Merry and Pippin a smile. His hand tightened a bit on the handle of his mug, but he forced that smile to widen. It was wonderful, the familiarity of the famed ale of his homeland, but also somehow bitter. It was lost on him, his sense of taste seeming to have dulled.

Sam's eyes wandered over to the fire where the dancers were still frolicking. He spent a brief moment searching, before his gaze softened as he spotted her. Rosie Cotton, looking very much the same as she had before the whole matter of the Ring started. That image of her on the night of Mr. Bilbo's 111th birthday had been the one he'd carried along with him after he'd left. Now, here she was, dancing about in the same manner with those familiar ribbons strewn through her hair.

Diamond looked over and, seeing Sam, glanced between him and Rosie. _'There he is. But Rosie doesn't seem to notice. I should probably point it out to her.'_

"There, you've got the hang of it," Rosie was saying to her brother, who'd always been a little insecure about his dancing. And she'd always scolded him on the nonsense of that, being that there really was no _right_ way to go about it.

"Have I?" Jolly grinned widely, trying to get a hold of some sort of rhythm.

"Rosie," Diamond spoke up from behind her.

Rosie glanced back, briefly startled before smiling at the lass.

"Sam is watching," Diamond said matter-of-factly.

Rosie's eyes lifted and she spotted him, staring at her from his place beside the kegs. She tilted her head and, when he noticed, his eyes fell to the mug in his hand.

Jolly stopped beside his sister and shook his head, "fella's always been a lil' shy, eh?"

Diamond smiled knowingly at Rosie, "he's fond of you."

Rosie tried to hide her amused smile at her friend's expense, but Jolly wasn't so obliging.

"_You're_ a perceptive lass," he stated flatly.

A proud smile crossed Diamond's face, seemingly unaware of the sarcasm. "Why, thank you."

Rosie's eyes rolled before she took them each by the arm and spun them back into the dancing. She would concern herself with Sam's bashfulness at another time. Now, with her back turned, she was quite certain that he had taken up watching her again. Watching from that safe distance he seemed ever bound to keep.

Frodo stepped up beside Sam, ale barely touched from within his mug, and stared out at the celebration along with him. He watched as the hobbits conversed and laughed at their tables, and as others swayed and slurred about in a drunken state. Some of the children had taken to playing traditional games, while the elderly minded them and smoked at their pipes. But Sam's focus, he knew, was entirely directed towards the bonfire, and at one particular, dancing lass.

With a brief glance to his friend, he recognized the look of longing. It was a look that had been present as long as he'd known him. He turned his own eyes to Rosie, and he saw briefly an image from the past. It was like a distant dream, now only revisited, and impossible to return to…

_Breathless, Frodo glanced over and his steps slowed, though the hobbits around him continued to twirl and spin to the music. He spotted Sam, saw him peek back at Rose Cotton, and then swiftly look away when she noticed him. _

_Glancing between the pair, Frodo smiled and then made his way over here to his friend, taking the seat beside him and trying to catch his breath. He motioned a hand out towards the dancing ring, his eyes gleaming with encouragement. _

"_Go on, Sam," he said, tone light and smile widening. "Ask Rosie for a dance!"_

_However, Sam only offered him a look of complete reluctance, and Frodo's smile faltered. He really did need to find a bit of courage and approach the lass already! _

"_I think I'm just gonna have another ale," his beloved gardener said as he began to rise. _

_But Frodo was having none of it and, spotting Rose from the corner of his eye, a slight mischievousness overtook his gaze, and he swiftly stood to stop him. "Oh no, you don't!" He exclaimed, gripping Sam by the shoulders, turning him about, and thrusting him forward. "Go on!"_

_He heard a few mumbled words of hesitancy from Sam, before Rosie smoothly received him and instantly led him through the dance with a wide grin. Frodo laughed at the pair, the sound energetic as he endearingly observed them…_

The sound of his own laughter faded, the tone of it echoing through his mind and somehow haunting him. He was returned to the current moment, and glanced again to his friend. He sighed beneath his breath and then placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You should go over to her," he urged softly.

Sam quickly looked to Frodo, that stubbornness returning. "And leave you standin' here on your own? Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I'd rather not."

"I'm not alone," Frodo informed him.

However, upon saying so, he glanced back and saw that, during the time he and Sam had been standing quietly, the others had moved to a nearby crowd, where both Merry and Pippin were beseeched upon to start up a tune.

Looking back to Sam, Frodo lowered his hand and only tilted his head towards the bonfire. "I'll be alright. I can be spared a moment to myself," he offered his gardener a smile, in an attempt to appease that worried look he was receiving. "Really, Sam. In fact, I think I could use it." He motioned a hand, "go on."

Sam regarded him uncertainly, shifting his warm eyes between Rosie and his friend, before reluctantly nodding and moving towards her. He took a last swig of his ale before setting it down on the nearby table and shyly returning the Cotton lass' smile when she noticed his approach.

Frodo smiled at his friend's expense, and then turned to take a seat somewhere a little more secluded. He breathed in deeply and then looked down into the liquid of his mug. After a long moment, he lifted the amber substance and took another dulled sip before contenting himself with gazing out at the celebration.

He caught sight of Young Tom taking up a dance with Sam's younger sister, Marigold. Tilting his head a little, he was prompted to smile, before his gaze shifted to where Estella had stood and was now making her way towards Folco and Merry. Was that bit of drama continuing? He'd been under the impression that three of them had moved on some time ago.

"Alright, alright," Merry informed the crowd, holding up a hand. "We'll sing _one_."

The crowd clapped and cheered, all eager to hear a famed song from their own war heroes.

"I reckon we've made quite a name for ourselves then," Pippin grinned.

"What ever gave you_ that_ idea?" Merry asked with a sarcastic smirk.

Folco clapped him on the back, which prompted a frown from the Brandybuck, though his spirits weren't dampened in the slightest.

That was until Estella Bolger came into view, brow arched, and eyes glinting with a sultriness unbefitting a proper hobbit. "Master Meriadoc. What a delight it is to be seeing you again."

"Estella," he answered flatly, determined not to grant her any further attention than what was required for the sake of politeness.

Pippin only stood behind his kin, amusement fading just a bit and a guarded expression taking him. The lass had given Merry a fair bit of trouble in their youth, and he was resolved to protect him from such a thing again.

"Bolger lass," Folco smirked widely. "You're looking well as ever!"

Estella only silently slithered her gaze to Folco, the annoyance evident from the narrowing of her eyes. She still blamed him entirely for the tribulations of their youth, effectively having discouraged Meriadoc from making an advance on her affections.

However, undeterred, Folco only lifted his mug in a show of a salute before drinking its contents.

The lass returned her attention to Merry, and offered him a dainty smile. "Care to join me in a dance? I've noticed you have yet to take to the floor this evening."

"As appreciative as I am of the offer," he replied, without quite managing to disguise the sarcastic traces in his tone. "I must decline. Pip and I have already promised ourselves to a song."

"Perhaps after then?"

" 'fraid I'd rather not," Merry muttered only, taking a moment to glance back and nod to Pippin, before then sweeping past the lass towards the band at the far end of the clearing.

The pair were followed by their crowd of enthusiastic hobbits, leaving Estella staring after them with only Folco for company. She heard him clear his throat and then slowly turned her head to face the unbearable lad.

"If a dance is what you're after, I'm willin' to oblige."

Her prompt refusal was silenced as her own thoughts caught up with her, reminding her of an old reeling technique which her mother had spoken of. _'The surest way to catch any lad's eye, is to stoke a bit of a jealousy into his heart. Leaves him to confront what he's been overlooking.'_

A sly smile caught her face, and she bounced her golden curls with a well-placed lift and nudge of her shoulder. "How kind of you to offer. I'd be _pleased _to accept."

Folco's eyes widened a bit in surprise at the shift in her temper, and his suspicions rose swiftly. However, he chose to ignore them for the sake of taking advantage of a rare opportunity. He offered her his arm and she took it graciously.

Together they strode towards the throng of dancers, and Estella tried her best to conceal her frequent glances towards Merry as he took to the stage. She certainly hoped he had noticed her with Folco beside her, lest her agreeing to dance with the fool amount to absolutely nothing but a waste of her time.

"Attention, everyone!" Merry addressed the celebration. The band paused in their playing, and all eyes turned to him and Pippin.

"Oh, a speech?" Fredegar asked no one in particular.

"We have been asked," Merry continued, gazing about the lawn. "To sing a tune for you all!"

This was immediately met with excited shouts and whistles, and Pippin grinned widely at how enthusiastic they all were. He took a swig of his ale and Merry did the same.

"Oh, wonderful," Diamond commented as she turned to watch.

Rosie smiled and then directed her eyes to the platform. She felt entirely content with Sam beside her and her home at last restored to what it used to be. The cheers of the crowd grew louder and she lifted her own hands to applaud the pair. It reminded her of those easy days spent at the tavern with these two, despite how much trouble they so often caused.

The two began simultaneously, their voices ringing out clear and true into the crisp night.

"_Don't go drinking with hobbits.  
>Sure you'll have a grand time all night long.<br>But if you're not used to drinking with hobbits,  
>You may not want to wake up at all."<em>

The band started up their music once more, and the crowd began to clap as Pippin and Merry deserted the stage for a nearby table, where they proceeded to circle one another and step to the steady rhythm.

"_They were thoughtful and kind when they invited me to drink,  
>A lone human among hobbitkind.<br>They bought me a half, then another and one more  
>And told stories of days long gone by."<em>

Sam shook his head as he watched them, and his gaffer mumbled something from beneath his breath. Their songs were usually comprising of a good jig, and the older Gamgee wasn't always the most receptive to that sort of thing. However, in the next instant, Rosie took Sam by his arm and turned him about. She brought him into a dance and those surrounding followed her lead.

"_The brew was strong. My glass never empty,  
>As if time stood still and bare.<br>But when I awoke the next morning  
>I felt like Old Smaug had been there."<em>

Frodo smiled fondly at the last line as he was reminded of his Uncle, those tales long since having past. He watched his kin and rejoiced for both their sake and for that of their frivolous audience. He sat silently, but he felt the slightest bit more comfort within the warmth of the energetic company. It was as if observing a vibrant painting, fond and familiar, vividly colored and almost tangible, yet maintained by an unsurpassable barrier.

"_You may wonder how it all happened.  
>Well, I'm still wondering what happened too.<br>I had tea, dinner, and supper.  
>Quite full, I thought I was through."<em>

Fredegar nodded to that and hummed beneath his breath, though his tune was a tad off. He swayed his mug of ale back and forth and whistled to the lively sound. _'So nice, this song.'_

"_ey insisted I come to the Flagon  
>And join in a toast to new friends.<br>But when I go there, I met more hobbit friends  
>And the toasts seemed never to end."<em>

A chorus of laughter sounded as well as another thunderous round of applause as their song came to an end. Each the Took and Brandybuck took a bow and then hopped down from the tabletop. The band started up again, and the murmurs of conversation were taken up around the lawn.

The two Captains were profusely congratulated and doted upon for their tune, and they found themselves trapped within the crowd, who seemed increasingly eager to hear as much as they could manage from the pair of them.

"Well," Estella said to Folco as she realized, quite regretfully, that Merry was busy with his admirers at the moment and could not be bothered upon to take note of her. "I thank you for the dance." She removed her arm and offered a slight nod of her head before turning and venturing to where her brother stood at the kegs.

Folco watched her go before smirking and then moving to approach one of the other young lasses. He wasn't about give up on his dancing just yet. She took him up on the offer and he led her to where Young Tom and Sam continued to twirl about with their partners, laughing at the fact that they each had taken up one others younger siblings.

"I tell you, Freddy," Estella smoothed her skirt. "Never have I danced one with such a poor dancer in all my years. You'd think he'd never had a partner in his life!"

Fredegar hardly heard her, however, and merely looked down into his empty mug with a frown.

When his sister noticed, she rolled her eyes before swiftly taking hold of his drink and turning, "I think you've had quite enough for one evening." She stalked off and ignored his incoherent protests.

Frodo stood from his place at the table, having lingered there longer than he felt was necessary. He decided to try and make his way towards Merry and Pippin and congratulate them properly. It had been an incredible tune, after all.

He first strolled to the kegs and placed his used mug with others of the kind, before turning and stepping forward, then only pausing as he heard his name unmistakably announced. With a furrowing of his brows, he glanced about briefly for the source.

However, he saw it was coming from one of the nearby tables, its occupants facing away from him, and towards the bonfire. Despite himself, and before he could continue on his way, he caught a fair bit of what they were saying.

"Sam obeyed his Master, as he should," one of them stated, pipe in hand. "But Mr. Frodo ought t've issued the order to off that Sharkey."

He was met with a few nods and mumbled words of agreement, before one of the others spoke up after him. "Sam and the capn's Meriadoc and Peregrin fought brave an' valiant, but what that Baggins done if not jus' be standin' there settlin' our troops?_ Sparin'_ those wretches!"

"He's come back madder than that Uncle a'his, I tell yuh."

"This place has seen quite enough of them mad folk. They're no good. Better off without 'em, I say."

"I don't like that look he's got in his eye."

"They say he's missin' a finger too. Ain't none of it natural in the least."

Frodo's eyes lowered and he swallowed uncomfortably, before turning and slowly making his way in the opposite direction of his previously intended destination. He needed to step away from the celebration a moment. Hearing those words bothered him more than he cared to admit, the rejection of his kin striking him unexpectedly.

'_They meant me no harm,' _Frodo assured himself. _'They simply don't understand, nor can they be expected to.' _

"Mr. Frodo!"

His steps again halted and he turned to see Sam staring at him in confusion, Rosie looking on curiously from beside him.

"You aren't leavin', are you?" Sam continued, voice stricken with a bit of panic.

Frodo composed himself quickly before shaking his head. "No, I'll only be a moment. I wanted to take a short walk somewhere quiet."

"You're not feelin' ill?" Sam took a step towards him, leaving Rose to linger behind, concern starting to replace her curiosity.

"Not at all," Frodo assured him with a smile. "I promise that I won't be long. Stay here with Rose."

With a heavy sigh, his gardener reluctantly resigned to his request for the second time that evening.

Frodo willed his smile to widen before he turned and continued on, trying to ignore the look he knew Sam to be sending him. It seemed he could never completely disguise his troubles from him.

"Will he be alright, do you think?" Rosie asked as Sam reclaimed his place at her side.

Sam sighed again, "I can't be sure. Mr. Frodo has a habit of downplayin' his worries. I s'pose to keep me from worryin' right along with him."

Rosie observed the deep crease between his brows as his soft gaze remained fixed on the path Mr. Frodo had taken. She smiled encouragingly and then canted her head towards the claim of his attention. "Go on after him then."

Sam's eyes widened a bit in surprise, before he awarded her a grateful smile. Without another word, he only nodded before turning and striding after Mr. Frodo. Rosie watched him go, and her concern returned. Despite everything Sam had told her, there really was a great deal she didn't understand.

Mr. Frodo's behavior was certainly odd and definitely worth her Sam's anxiety. Why, when last she'd seen him, he'd taken to dancing right along with those scoundrels who'd sung atop the table. He was hardly recognizable now.

From across the way, Estella gripped her brother's empty cup of ale tightly when she overheard the things the old Gaffer's were spouting off about Frodo Baggins. She'd halted hastily in her steps and strained to listen to the entire conversation, even shushing those who were impeding that process.

Once it'd all been said, she strode towards them and placed a hand on her hip. They noticed her immediately.

"Listen here," She told them, eyes blazing with irritation. "I won't tolerate any foul talk of the young Baggins lad. He saved my Freddy from them Lockholes the other day, and he's got _my_ unwavering gratitude for it."

The grumbled beneath their breaths, and Estella smirked in satisfaction before turning and continuing her march towards some of the other lasses she found agreeable enough to associate herself with.

…

Frodo hadn't gone far as he crossed the barren field, where the grass had been charred and now crumbled like ash beneath his steps. Sam's voice reached him and he looked over with a sigh as he saw the familiar form of his gardener approaching.

"Mr. Frodo!?" He called.

He stopped and patiently waited for Sam to reach him, his answer firm and gentle. "I'm here."

"I apologize for not goin' along with that request of yours," Sam said as he caught his breath. "But Rosie encouraged me to go on after you."

"Did she indeed?" Frodo asked, as he shook his head. They really were quite the pair. Likeminded, in a sense.

"You ought to be knowin' by now that I can see when somethin's got you bothered."

Frodo glanced away, staring absently across the blackened land. "It's nothing really. As I told you, I just needed a moment somewhere quiet. A place to think, that's all."

"Mr. Frodo," Sam shook his head. "I don't believe that's all there is to it."

There wasn't much point in it, was there? Trying to spare Sam his concern. His dear gardener could sense his disposition, it seemed. However, Frodo hardly even knew how to begin. More than anything, he was a bit ashamed of himself for letting such a thing bother him the way it did. He could find contentment in the fact that, despite what the other hobbits might think of him, personally, Sam at least had earned their respect.

"It's-"However, his words faded as he caught sight of something fast approaching from across the field.

Sam followed his gaze and his brows furrowed, "what is that?"

Frodo's eyes widened as he noted what appeared to be the silhouette of a handful of riders. The wraiths entered his mind briefly, but were discarded soon after as he could not detect the presence of any spiritual entities. These riders were of the race of Men. Had the ruffians rallied?

"Sam," he took a step back. Despite these men not being agents of the Shadow realm, their malice was palpable. "We have to run. We have to warn the others." His mind was all at once filled with a sickening dread, as he considered the great number of his kin gathered only a few yards away, and without any weapons to speak of.

"Mr. Fr-"

"Oh no, ye ain't goin' anywhere," a voice cackled from their left.

And out from the mangled trees strode Ted Sandyman, holding a sword aloft and eyes glinting greedily as a victorious smile widened his mouth.


End file.
